


Until the End

by literaryshoes



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2600057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryshoes/pseuds/literaryshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of the events leading to the Brigadier's ultimate farewell in Death in Heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Entering the Nethersphere

The room doesn't look like much. It's more of an office than anything. A desk, a chair, two doors leading to other places and basically nothing else. The Brigadier sits in the chair, wondering whether he should get up and walk out when a man in a suit enters the room. “Good afternoon,” says the man in the suit, looking pristine and composed. “I’m Seb. Has anyone offered you a coffee yet?” 

“No,” says the Brigadier. “And I mean that as an answer to both questions. No, no one has offered me a coffee, and no, I do not want any coffee.” 

“Suit yourself,” says the man. “We reserve the good kind for new arrivals. And you in particular are a very special guest.” 

The Brigadier frowns. Generally anyone who considers him a very special guest has something unpleasant in mind. “Where exactly am I?” 

“Apologies. You can call me Seb, and this is the Nethersphere. Basically, you’re dead and this—” Seb gestures around— “is the afterlife.” Seb punctuates this statement with a shrug. 

The Brigadier gives his surroundings a brief glance, not very interested and certainly not impressed. “If this is supposed to be heaven, you could certainly stand to redecorate. And if it’s hell, well… you appear to be short a few demons.” 

Seb shrugs. “You could think of me as a demon, if that helps.” 

The Brigadier scoffs. “Please. I’ve seen demons. More than once, in fact. You’re certainly no demon.” 

“Yes, well, demons aside, I have a proposition for you,” says Seb. “Walk with me.” 

This statement is met with a rather derisive expression from the Brigadier, but he follows Seb out of the room onto a balcony. The view here is distinctly more impressive than it was inside. Whatever this place is, it appears to be some sort of sphere, a self-contained city within a globe. 

“So, here’s the deal,” said Seb. “You’ve lived all your life with all sorts of pain. Physical, mental, emotional. It says here, General Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, that you were the head of UNIT. First line of defense against aliens and whatnot.” Seb throws up his hands in a gesture that is half dismissal, half exaggeration. “With a track record like that, I’m certain you know what I’m talking about.” 

Memories come then, unbidden. Things the Brigadier had thought he had long forgotten. Things he wishes he could have forgotten. Betrayal. Anger. Loss. The people he’s left behind and the people he wishes he could leave behind. “Yes,” he says. “I do.” 

“Well, what if… and I’m not just speaking hypothetically here… what if there was a way you could just get rid of all that pain? What if… you could just press a button, and it would all go away for good?” says Seb. He offers the Brigadier a tablet computer. 

“I’m hopeless with these things, you know,” the Brigadier says. 

“This couldn’t be simpler. Really. All you need to do is press that button—” Seb points at the button on the screen— “and poof! All gone,” says Seb, handing the tablet over to the Brigadier. “I’ll give you a moment to think it over.” 

The Brigadier looks down at the piece of electronics in his hands, contemplating it for a moment. It would be remarkably simple. He looks up at Seb. “Just press this button and it all goes away?” 

“Just press that button.” 

There’s a brief moment in which neither of them says anything, and then the Brigadier looks up. He stares Seb straight in the eyes, a completely deadpan expression on his face, and slowly smiles. Then he raises his arm and tosses the tablet backwards over his shoulder and off the balcony. He maintains eye contact with Seb the entire time, his grin only growing. “Oops.”


	2. Chapter One: Wandering the Nethersphere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brigadier begins reconnaissance... starting with a mysterious young woman.

The Brigadier doesn’t like this place. He doesn’t trust it, first of all. What kind of afterlife would be this bureaucratic? He’s assigned a “compartment”—that’s what they call it, a “compartment”—with very little in the way of furniture. There’s a bed, a chair, one small empty bookshelf, a refrigerator and a stove, with a single picture hung on the wall. One of those bland inspirational posters, the kind with a picture of a field or an eagle or something. This one is simply a picture of a smiling woman, and in the corner is the corporate logo for something called 3W. The Brigadier has never heard of 3W, or what the company is supposed to do. Underneath, in small gold lettering, are the words “Be a part of the future today.” The Brigadier sighs. Perhaps this is hell after all.

There are two doors in the room: one leading out to a small, cramped balcony and one leading out to a hallway. The Brigadier walks out of the second door, hoping the hallway at least has more room to move than the balcony.

The hallway is as sterile and uninteresting as his compartment, lit by the yellowish glow of fluorescent lighting and completely undecorated except for the occasional compartment door. It is, in fact, quite narrow, but there is at least room for two people to walk beside each other comfortably, which is more than can be said about the balcony. The Brigadier makes a note of his own compartment number—7901—before walking down the hall.

There is almost nothing here, just more compartment doors on either side of the hall, until finally he reaches a larger door marked Stairwell. He pushes it open, noticing as he does so the swish of what appears to be a woman’s skirt. Curious, he follows whoever it is, hoping that he can get some more information about this Nethersphere or whatever this place is called.

He gets just the faintest hint of the skirt going through a door on one of the lower floors and follows it. He sees the owner of the skirt—it is in fact a skirt, attached to a blue and green Victorian dress—before he realizes the implications of what he’s done. Firstly, that there are other areas of this place, places he can apparently walk into and out of. And secondly, that he’s just been following a young woman who is now looking at him, arms folded across her chest, wearing a smile that is part amused and part annoyed.

“Oh, excuse me,” said the Brigadier. “I’m so sorry. I hadn’t been intending to do anything untoward, nor do I plan to harm you. I just wanted to talk to you. I don’t know anything about this place, and you’re the first person I’ve seen since that Seb fellow. I’ve only just got here, you see.”

The young woman’s smile turns from annoyed to relaxed. “I’ve been here for ages. Or at least it feels like ages. You start to lose track after a while. As far as where we are, well, I’ve heard this place called many things. The one thing most people seem to agree on is that it’s some sort of afterlife.”

“I see,” said the Brigadier. “They said as much. Did they ask you about getting rid of your emotions, too?”

“Oh, yes,” said the young woman. “I told them exactly what they could do with their offer.”

The Brigadier chuckles in spite of himself. He isn’t entirely certain why, but he likes this woman. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it,” says the woman. She smiles. “Clara Oswin Oswald.”

“I’m Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart,” says the Brigadier. “Most people just call me the Brigadier.”

Clara smiles. “So, Brigadier, is the afterlife anything like what you’d imagined?”

“No,” says the Brigadier. “Although I do confess I never really gave it all that much thought.”

“Well, at least there’s plenty of space to move around in,” says Clara. “Nice and roomy. I’ve even heard rumors there’s a garden somewhere around here.”

“Have you?” The Brigadier isn’t certain which piece of information he wants to act on first, the fact that there are more people here, people who apparently have information about this place, or the fact that there is more space, more areas than just the hallways and buildings he’s seen. “Heard from whom?”

“Oh, loads of people,” says Clara. “I’ve only met a few people, but they’ve all shared pretty much the same story.”

“And what’s your story, Miss Oswald?” asks the Brigadier.

“Not that interesting, I’m afraid,” says Clara. “Just your ordinary barmaid moonlighting as a governess.”

“Ah,” says the Brigadier. “Yes, perfectly ordinary.” His smile, however, indicates that he knows it isn’t.

Clara returns the smile. “Yeah, just your standard double life. Until the Doctor came along.”

The Brigadier freezes. “The Doctor?”

“Yeah,” says Clara. “Tall, sort of skinny bloke with floppy hair and a big chin.”

“I don’t think I’ve met him,” replies the Brigadier, and he has to stop himself from adding “yet.” There won't be a “yet.”

“You’d remember,” says Clara with a fond smile. “But yeah. Met the Doctor, along with a lizard woman and a potato butler.”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” says the Brigadier. _Potato butler? Who have you been talking to, Doctor?_

Clara smiles at him. “Lot all at once, I know. But anyway…”

She’s cut off by the sound of a scream. The Brigadier moves to run in the direction it came from, but Clara grabs his arm.

“No point in trying to find out who it was,” she says. “They told me when I came in that it’s people who’ve been cremated. That you feel whatever your body experiences.”

The Brigadier stares, aghast. “That's horrific. They didn’t say anything like that to me.”

“No?” says Clara. “Maybe you got the abridged introduction.”

“They told me I was a ‘very special guest.’ Generally people who tell me things like that have something less than pleasant in mind,” says the Brigadier.

Clara smirks. “You must be important, then.”

The Brigadier lets out a hollow laugh. “That depends on your idea of important. I suppose if you wanted to you could call me that… but that was a long time ago. I’m… I was retired.” He smirks at that. “Technically. It’s the sort of retirement that apparently means ‘call me when something goes wrong.’”

“Good to know you’re appreciated,” says Clara with a shrug and a smirk.

The Brigadier smiles at that. “Yes, I suppose it is, isn’t it? Well, Miss Oswald, I’m sure you have better things to do than to talk to an old soldier. Thank you for your time.”

Clara smiles and gives a fake salute, walking away. The Brigadier looks around the room in which he finds himself. It’s actually quite an expansive room, doors leading to what he suspects must be more corridors and rooms.

It’s obvious he’s in some sort of common area, which opens up on every floor of this building. Briefly, he wonders exactly how many compartments there are in this place. For now, though, his mind has already switched gears. It’s time for some reconnaissance.

He chooses a door at random. Having no idea where any of the doors lead, choosing any door is likely to give some kind of useful information. The corridor the door opens to is much wider than the one outside his compartment. Logically speaking, that means a more heavily trafficked area, which means he’s more likely to encounter a greater number of people here.

There’s a door a short distance away from him, marked Library. That seems as good a place to start exploring as any. Better, probably. He pushes the door open, and sits down at a table. At least it’s quiet here.

Or so he thinks.


End file.
